A quiet and eerie voice spoke from above Neophyte, saying:
"Welcome, lost one."
These words left Neophyte in deep thought. Am I in the real world or inside the Hades Scenario? Or perhaps both?
If I look closely, I can recognize that this is London during the Age of Chaos. But the atmosphere here… it feels like the end of the world. So, is this Doomsday London or the hidden Age of Hades? Just as it was mentioned in the "Bloody Memo"… What is the secret connecting them?
Neophyte looked up, his eyes fixed on the mysterious man's monocle, and asked:
"Who are you, one-eyed man?"
The unknown man laughed before gazing back at Neophyte and saying:
"It seems you are the first person to call me 'one-eyed man.' Sometimes people refer to me as 'single-eye' or even 'half-eye.' Hahahahaha!"
Neophyte's expression darkened with frustration as he snapped back:
"I asked who you are, you bastard! I don't need to hear your pathetic life story!"
The mysterious man leaped down to the ground and stood before Neophyte.
"I'm in the same situation as you, Neophyte. I, too, need to survive for seventy-two hours and escape this eerie scenario known as 'Hades.'"
Neophyte wasn't surprised at all that this man knew his name—or even about the Hades Scenario. This wasn't the first time he had encountered an enigmatic figure.
"I have a question for you, one-eyed man. What were you doing up there? And that eye… wasn't it watching you?"
The monocled man raised an eyebrow, placing his fingers on his chin as he responded in a puzzled tone:
"Eye? What do you mean, an eye? I didn't see any eye. Also, I was up there to avoid being killed by those lunatics."
Neophyte was slightly taken aback, questioning himself internally:
Am I the only one being watched by this eye? Or is this man lying to me? Also, why can't I use my skill to see the past of this world? Even when I touched the clown's shoulder earlier, I couldn't see his fate…
Neophyte glanced upward again, and he noticed that the eye was slowly shifting, its shape altering slightly from what it had been before. No matter how long he stared, it never remained the same.
As Neophyte's thoughts drifted into the depths of Tartarus, the mysterious man suddenly spoke:
"Ah, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is 'Nyalen Becord'—the First Coward."
Nyalen placed his hat over his chest and bowed slightly.
Neophyte furrowed his brows at the strange name, especially at the title. Coward?
"Your name is Nyalen, and your title is 'the Coward'? Then go ahead and survive, coward."
Neophyte started walking toward a ruined building on the left to hide from the watching eyes. He planned to wait an hour before resuming his journey to escape this terrifying place.
But Nyalen raised his hand horizontally in front of Neophyte's chest, stopping him.
"Why don't we work together, Neophyte? This scenario is terrifying. You'll need allies to survive this long and grueling journey. What do you say?"
Neophyte pressed his gun against Nyalen's chest, glaring at him.
"And what exactly would make me trust you, coward? No thanks. Survive on your own however you see fit."
Nyalen smirked, placing his fingers on the barrel of the gun.
"No need for such hostility, Neophyte. I'm merely offering a bit of assistance. There's no reason to be so dramatic. Do I look like I have a gun or a knife? My only strategy is to hide and run from those maniacs."
Neophyte considered Nyalen's words carefully. I need to be extremely cautious around anyone in this world. But looking at Nyalen… he doesn't seem particularly dangerous. He's trying to play smart, but I know exactly how to handle someone like him.
Lowering his gun, Neophyte grinned—a dark, unsettling smile—as he looked directly into Nyalen's eyes.
"Do something stupid even once, and I'll cut your head off so fast that even Hades himself won't see it coming."
Nyalen raised his hands, waving them playfully with an exaggerated chuckle.
"No, no, I won't do anything stupid! How could a coward like me ever try to deceive a towering, powerful man like you?"
Neophyte turned away and muttered:
"Just follow me and don't do anything reckless. Got it, Nyalen?"
Nyalen nodded, and the two of them began moving through the narrow alleys between the buildings.
However, Neophyte quickly realized something strange—the eye wasn't changing its shape. It remained locked in the same form.
After about ten hours of travel, Neophyte and Nyalen sat inside an abandoned house. Their plan was to never stay in one location for more than an hour.
Neophyte didn't feel the slightest bit drowsy. His sharp eyes never left Nyalen for even a second. Nyalen eventually noticed this and smirked.
"What's wrong, Neophyte? Your piercing gaze is drilling into my back. Do you really think an unarmed man like me is a threat?"
Neophyte scoffed, still staring at him.
"You can never be too careful, Nyalen. There are plenty of sons of bitches in this world."
Nyalen grinned at Neophyte, an eerie smile forming on his face.
Suddenly, both of them heard the scream of a woman outside.
A loud voice followed:
"Kill this traitorous whore! She sold us out to another group just for a bit of food!"
The woman, sobbing and begging for mercy, cried out:
"It was for our survival, 'Sheson'!"
Sheson slapped her across the face with brutal force, grabbing her by the hair and snarling:
"I don't believe whores like you."
He released her hair and turned away, heading into a modern building.
The woman continued sobbing, pleading for her life—until one of Sheson's men beheaded her with a single stroke, turning her tears into blood.
Neophyte and Nyalen watched the entire scene unfold in complete silence from the window.
Neophyte sat back on the couch, sharpening his sword while thinking to himself:
It seems we're in an area controlled by a specific group. Each territory must be ruled by a different faction… This scenario is full of bizarre events. Judging by their numbers, they could be a serious obstacle for me.
Neophyte turned to Nyalen with a mysterious smile, then stood up and said:
"It looks like we'll be using your plan after all, Nyalen."
Nyalen smirked.
"It seems you're finally understanding how this scenario works, Neophyte."
Thirty minutes later, both of them exited the building.
Neophyte was unarmed.
They walked toward the inner gates—the entrance to the faction's stronghold—where guards were stationed.
One of the guards yelled at them:
"Who are you? What the hell are you doing in this area?"
Neophyte and Nyalen raised their hands in surrender.
Neophyte spoke in the tone of a terrified man who only wanted to pass through.
"We have come to cross into the next area. We have no intention of harming you or your leader."
The other guard began searching them, then signaled that they were unarmed. He led them inside the area, where all eyes were on them—especially on Neophyte, whose massive, muscular build was terrifying.
The guard escorted them to the leader. As they entered the office, they remained standing. Nyalen couldn't help but resent the extravagant furniture in the room—it was as if this man was the president of a country.
Sitting in a tall-backed chair, Sheson addressed them.
"What do you want, strangers? Are you with Winchester? Or spies?"
Neophyte responded quickly.
"And if we were spies, what would you do to us, Sheson?"
Sheson placed his hand on the table, staring at Neophyte.
"It seems you know my name well. What's your name, stranger?"
Neophyte smiled.
"They call me The Jester."
Sheson was taken aback by the name. Then, suddenly, he burst into laughter, slamming his hand on the table.
"Pffft, hahaha! The Jester? Is that really your name? That's hilarious, man!"
Neophyte chuckled.
"Yes, the name is quite amusing."
Sheson's face grew serious, and he slammed his hand on the table again.
"What are you getting at, Jester? And how do you know my name?"
Neophyte answered calmly.
"On our way here, we saw you executing a girl. She was calling you Sheson."
Sheson lit a cigarette and looked at the investigator.
"And you still came here so boldly after witnessing that?"
Neophyte nodded confidently. Meanwhile, Nyalen stood to the side, smirking as he observed Neophyte's cunning manipulation. The way Neophyte presented the information was a psychological technique—throwing everything out in the open to make the other person feel his presence and power.
Sheson laughed again.
"I'm starting to like you, Jester. You're an interesting man. Damn, I've never met someone like you before."
He continued.
"I'll let you pass through this area and move to the next one, but you have to complete a challenge."
Neophyte was taken aback for a moment but then replied.
"I'll accept your offer, but my partner stays out of this. Do we have a deal?"
Sheson glanced at Nyalen with a scrutinizing look, then smirked.
"He doesn't seem to have the guts you do, Jester. So, we have a deal."
He leaned forward and spoke mockingly.
"The challenge is simple. You must cross six buildings. Each building has three men inside. Your task is to kill them all to reach the next area."
Sheson then pulled a pistol from his pocket and tossed it toward Neophyte.
"Remember, the ammo is limited—precisely counted for the number of people. It's a game called Climbing to Freedom. Let's see what you're made of, Jester."
Sheson gave Neophyte a challenging look, as if daring him to hesitate, to question himself—or perhaps, to reveal his true strength.